Bondage Jane Ch. 03

Chapter 3 Brainwashed Bimbo

The soft fabric around my wrists and ankles was tight and strong and it felt good upon my skin. Arousal was spreading over every sensitive inch of me as those wonderful words and all those overwhelmingly mind melting sensations made my thoughts slow down seductively. I would have loved to be bound there helpless as my mind was slowly conditioned to relax and obey whatever twisted suggestions lay hidden deep inside the Shelley simulation.

Ultimately though, these binds were no match for my skills, and even the blissful brainwashing was no match for my unyielding conviction. It was easy to slip the restraints, once I knew for sure that Brent had no intention of releasing me.

"No really, I need to stop," I insisted, setting the headpiece down for emphasis, on top of Brent's big walnut brown desk. At this point I leaned down low to show as much of my overflowing cleavage as I could muster through my low cut black field agent power shirt.

Brent looked up surprised and I caught his eyes with a little trick I learned during my deception agent training, absolute seduction studies. I fluttered my eyelashes slowly and focused my zeal out through a captivating stare that held him there, mesmerized by a sudden sensual look in my brown eyes that fills up empty minds with lust and makes them eager to believe every word I say.

"The truth is," I continued in a sweetly amorous tone that makes it oh so easy to relax and embrace my every suggestion. "All those swirling twirling red lights made my head feel dizzy and drowsy. Plus those flashing words telling me to relax and obey, well they make me so horny and ready to be filled up nice and deep. I can't control my arousal when my head feels oh so empty and so very eager to be controlled. So I was hoping you would um, come with me and help me take care of that."

I could tell from the blank stare in his vacant eyes, and from the growing tent in his khaki pants, my mind melting tone had done the trick. He was firmly caught by the lust in my eyes, lost in a daydream of sexual desires. All I had to do now was finish implanting the suggestion, then make him wake up without realizing my hypnotic trick.

"You want to take me someplace private where we can have a little fun." I posed my suggestion as a question which we both knew the answer to, and I knew that his mind would wake up slowly as he spoke.

"I-I, um, I uh, y-yes," Brent stammered, not quite certain what it was he was agreeing too, but absolutely certain that he wanted it desperately. It took several groggy seconds for his waking mind to catch up with my words and understand what it was I was asking for, before he continued. "Right this way, follow me. Oh and I think we can both agree this will be much more enjoyable if you wear the simulation shell and watch those pretty flashing colors while we have our little fun. In fact you can put it back on now."

This skeazy slimebag easily believed I actually had the hots for him. My plan was working perfectly. That's probably because I was telling the truth about the way that all those lovely hypnotic patterns and undeniable suggestions telling me to relax and obey were effecting me in wonderful ways that turned my panties into a wet and horny mess.

Oh fuck! Why does mind control turn me on so much? This was no time for fantasizing about the blank and blissful pleasure I would inevitably feel when I let myself relax and obey, and focus Jane! Did he just say put it back on now?!

Brent clicked a couple buttons on his laptop, then he stood up and stepped towards me.

In a moment I would be wearing his hypnotic helmet again, completely immersed in compelling suggestions to relax and obey and be transformed into an obedient subject. But I had a mission. I needed to resist the desire to slip back down into a drowsy dreamy trance. I had to resist just long enough to make it off camera, otherwise I might really end up brainwashed and used like some kind of hyperhorny fuckslut or worse.

My nipples stiffened at the thought.

I think that Brent could see the way my body reacted as his hands slid slowly down, setting the simulation shell down into place. He smiled widely, then grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door.

I let myself be led along, bracing for the imminent moment when those flashing lights would reappear. Intently I focused my mind on resisting those enticing hypnotic compulsions to relax and obey and slip into a deeply obedient state. I was certain that I could resist this time, now that I understood the way that powerful phrase makes my mind feel all melty and mushy inside, but those magical words did not appear.

Nothing happened for several seconds except for a subtle humming sound, like a low frequency tone buzzing all around my right ear and a slightly higher tone played on my left.

Was that a soft and feminine voice whispering in the background? What were they saying? Was I already beginning to absorb subtle suggestions that would slowly undermine my resistance and replace it with a deep desire to relax and obey? I couldn't tell because the voice was drowned out by that binaural tone and my attention was acutely focused elsewhere.

Brent pulled me out of the room and turned to the right, heading down a long and boring hallway with plain grey walls and only a single other doorway, on the left. The most exciting thing to see, aside from me, inside this dull and dreary hall were the black security cameras which were mounted above both doors and up on the wall near the intersection, all the way down at the end of the hall.

From my perspective though, it became a lot more colorful. Little lights began to grow in pleasant shades of purple, red, and pink, in a scattered pattern of glossy bubbles all around me. They grew from tiny little dots, much like those fascinating red rings that had fascinated my hazy head just moments ago, except that they slowly inflated into pretty little bubbles and when those bubbles grew too big they-

POP, a big pink bubble disappeared with a satisfying sound that completely broke my concentration.

"My thinks go pop," A giggly voice whispered inside my mind and the pleasant massaging sensation buzzed my scalp in time, sending a wave of pleasure through drowsy head.

This must be a different program, I realized, but I still needed to resi-

POP! I felt that tiny buzz of pleasure and empty-headed bliss again, as a second bubble popped.

"Bimbo thoughts stop," a different but equally giggly voice spoke in my thoughts.

"You'll enjoy this lots," Brent said, as he led me down the long hallway. "Just relax and let the bubbles put you in the mood to obey."

POP POP POP

"Ditzy deep drop" a third infectiously giggly voice rang out in my thoughts. Then a fourth chimed in "My head feel hazy," and a fifth "I'm such a ditz," as the pretty bubbles popped faster around me.

I couldn't help but giggle at how silly and empty headed I feel every time another bubble bursts. There's just something about that simple sound and the sexy way it seems to send a wave of pleasure through my brain as the little probes massage my head into a state of ditzy blank airheaded bliss.

Focus Jane you need to resist!

But how much longer could I keep my mind awake?

Brent tugged me to the right and the sudden shift in my momentum helped me wake up and focus my drowsy mind.

I blinked my eyes and forced myself awake, using every ounce energy I had to focus absolutely on resisting the brainwashing bubbles. In fact, I woke up all the way and resisted so very well that I was able to completely tune out all the pretty colors that kept bursting all around me with POP after satisfying POP and all the ditzy voices in my subconscious, giggling "Bimbo thoughts stop. Ditzy deep drop." I concentrated and was able to consciously ignore those words and the arousing way they seemed to affect my body and mind, turning my attention instead to the new hallway we just turned down.

Fortunately for me this plain grey hallway was far shorter than the last. The left wall was completely bare, and there was a pair of doors on the right hand side which were marked with large human silhouettes, one in a dress, the other obscured by a purple bubble which didn't POP with a giggly "my thinks go pop," until I had already turned my attention away.

More importantly I saw a large set of double doors at the end of the hall, blocked by a small security checkpoint. My instincts told me that the genetic lab lay just beyond those doors. Why else would the room be guarded by a pair of burly men standing below a plastic sign that says "Labratory" in big bold letters?

I needed to get inside but first I had to take care of Brent and put a stop to those devious bubbles before they POP all the thoughts from my head and fill up my mind with silly things like "I'm such a ditz." Even though I ignored them, I knew that they were slowly crumbling my resistance away and making it harder for me to think as if every POP made my head feel hazy, in subtle ways that I hardly noticed until I realized I was starting to sink down into trance again, except even hornier and ditzier this time.

Just when I thought I couldn't hold out any longer, as if one more POP "Ditzy deep drop" would make my thoughts completely stop, our journey finally came to its end.

Brent turned and opened up door marked with the human in a dress. He peeked inside quite cautiously and threw a quick glance back at me, grinning almost sheepishly, before he finally walked gleefully towards the closest bathroom stall.

WHAM!

I spun a spinning kick, the moment that we were alone off camera, aiming to slam his stupid face right up into the closest wall. Then I caught his unconscious body and set him up on the loo, with his khakis pulled down low and the stall door locked up tight.

That ought to buy me a couple of hours at least, I incorrectly assumed.

Naively, I believed that there was time aplenty to spare, so I took a quick look at the laptop computer. As luck would have it, Brent was still logged in. He had the Shell-E program running. I think? At least, I was pretty sure this was the software he used to control his brainwashing helmet.

There were three round buttons on the left side of the screen, in pleasant shades of green, red, and blue with white lettering in the center of each circle labeling them respectively as start, pause, and options. The right side of the screen was covered in dials and displays of all shapes and sizes, made to monitor vital signs and other signals from the subject.

It had everything: heart beat, blood pressure, ditz index, eye motion, brain activity, neural dampening frequency, Induced unawareness level, bimbofication propagation percentage, and even the quantum suggestibility quotient.

That didn't seem right, though I couldn't quite seem to understand why, or what even half of those dials really mean. Then I noticed a drop down menu, all the way down at the bottom of the screen. It had just two settings, "Shelley simulation" which I'd experienced back in the room and "Bimbo Bubble Brainwash" which it was set to at the moment.

Now I know why I saw all those bubbles and weird displays. Brent had a special plan in mind for me, but being brainwashed by him is the last thing I would do.

I left the laptop open and set it neatly in Brent's lap then gently placed the simulation Shell down on the keyboard and tucked the long black cord underneath the computer. Once everything was neatly arranged to avoid suspicion from glancing eyes, I hoisted myself up into the air vents.

There was of course a metal grating in my way, screwed rather tightly into place, but I had my utility tool tucked away discretely in the under wiring of my bra. Quite frankly I was glad to take off that painful undergarment and let my double D breasts hang freely below my shirt. Sure it gave me some stunning cleavage, but I had some very angry words for the creator of the original underwire. At least this particular pair had helped me sneak some toys past security.

That grating slid off easy like a pair of trousers from a soon to be lover when I start putting on the charm.

A minute later I was crawling through a tight air duct, inching my way forwards on my hands and knees, carefully calculating my every motion to make as little noise as possible as I silently slid onwards. Fortunately I have a lot of experience moving through tight spaces. In no time at all I was perched above the lab, looking down on the scientists at work.

Franky stood there, gorgeous as ever, even though all their skin was covered up below the face by a long sleeved plain white lab coat with matching pairs of rubber boots and gloves. Their blue eyes almost seemed to sparkle with excitement and their thin lips were curled into a delightful smile. They stood next to a tall and handsome man, dressed in similar attire, who was obviously the lab assistant.

Igor Fullman must have been at least 6ft 5, with a slender muscular body and short curly blondish light brown hair that neatly outlined his charming smile. He had thick full brows above his radiant green-blue eyes, and a bulging but not overbearing nose at the center of his cleanly shaven face.

If I had known all the intricate ways that the kludde plant living inside of the deus X drug can interact with the human body and mind, I might have guessed where his remarkably good looks came from. Instead I watched from up above, scanning the room for structural weak points that I could later exploit with a well placed explosive, unaware of how completely oblivious I was to the subtle methods of the mutation drug.

I was looking down at a spacious warehouse of a lab. It was a big square room with a metal door on every wall and a wide cylindrical power hub positioned precisely at the center, dividing the space up into 4 laboratory stations. Every interesting thing inside the room seemed focused around the middle. In fact it was mostly empty space outside of that, except for some shelves along the walls which were neatly stacked full of cardboard boxes.

The central hub provided power, equipment, and supplies. It hosted a wide variety of screens, probes, levers, dials, tubes, gears and other devices meant for genetic research techniques that I had never seen before. The tall cylinder in the middle was lined with wires and tubes going all the way up through the ceiling, leading me to believe that there must be something important up above, but I could worry about that later.

The only other person in the room, whom I could see, was a mortally wounded man who lay there moaning in agony atop an operating table that was crackling quite loudly and glowing with little sparks of electricity. He had 3 broken ribs poking through his flesh plus countless gashes and bruises all over his battered body which seemed to be barely clinging on to life. There were no wires or probes connected, but I could see bright blue arcs of lightning flying seemingly at random from his hands and feet and every inch of him.

Was this Surge, the electric superhero Franky had told me so much about? They didn't mention anything about him being on the brink of death. Had he been injured to the point where he lost control of his powers? Did the 2 geneticists think that they could somehow save this man with their miracle mutation drug?

Probably yes to all those questions, but I could not hear them very clearly over the whirring of the fans inside the tight ventilation duct. So I pressed my head up close to the metal and cupped my fingers around my ear. Then I focused some zeal into my hands and held it there, forming a perfect listening cone just like they taught us in my tactical investigation training.

"Are you ready to administer the first dose?" Franky asked, and I could hear the subtle deception in their words. I knew that tone. They were up to something devious indeed.

But what?

Igor seemed oblivious to the ruse, showing no sign of apprehension as he picked up a syringe that was filled with something green and slimy.

Was that the liquid form of Deus X?

Yes, it was. I got my answer when the tall attractive scientist raised 1 long slender finger up to flick the glass, causing the green stuff to bubble violently inside. Igor nodded approvingly to Franky as if the liquid's eruptive reaction was somehow satisfactory. Then he carefully approached the table and leaned down to make the injection.

SHOCK!

I watched silently from the air duct as a bright flash of lightning arced through the metal needle in a sudden explosion of bright energy that flung Igor's handsome ass across the room like a rag doll.

THWAP! CRASH!

Igor collided with a stack of boxes on a metal shelf along the northern wall of the room. Little green pills scattered everywhere and vials of that same green volatile liquid smashed open, creating a green and slimy puddle that bubbled and melted through the cardboard but did not damage the shelves or floor.

Franky dashed towards him, but at the same time I heard the sound of a second set of footsteps running the opposite direction, towards Surge. Weird, I thought then quickly forgot about it because my attention was focused on the unmoving scientist laying in the pile of broken glass and crumpled boxes which were slowly melting into the growing puddle of green bubbly mutation fluid.

For a moment I thought that Igor must be dead, but he was just stunned. Surprisingly, he started to stir just seconds later, sitting up and brushing it off like it was just a minor fall.

Had Igor been dosed with Deus X as well? I couldn't quite tell from afar but it seemed like his scrapes and cuts were already starting to close.

"You'll want to use a plastic needle on this subject," Franky instructed, wearing a perfect poker face as they bent down to help their stunned assistant to his feet. In that same motion Franky managed to stealthily pocket several vials of liquid Deus X which would go unnoticed thanks to this accident.

I couldn't help but giggle as I realized how Franky had held back a crucial piece information purposely.

"Yes of course," Igor agreed, taking Franky's hand and pulling himself to his feet. Then he noticed my little mistake. "Are you laughing at me? Who was that? Did you hear that?"

Franky looked up and made eye contact with me, through the grating of the ventilation duct. Their expression shifted subtly, eyes narrowing and lip curling up into a sly smile for a tiny fraction of a second before they looked back down expressionless to answer.

"It's just the two of us in here with Surge," Franky lied, and my instincts told me it was time to leave. "Maybe your ears are ringing from the crash? Would you like some medical attention?"

"No I'm fine," Igor asserted. Then he looked around, up and down, his keen eyes carefully scanning over every shadow and every possible hiding place. But he failed to find either of the two hidden observers.

I was already crawling away and that was the last thing I heard him say before I slid back out of the tight ventilation ducts.

Unbeknownst to all of us, there was another presence hidden in the lab. Cheshire was there, cloaked in illusion as he usually is, keeping an eye on things to make sure that his partner Surge made it out of this mess alive. Neither of us had noticed the other and unfortunately we wouldn't meet until it was far too late, but I had no way of knowing that yet.

It was time for me to finally get inside the genetic lab, but I didn't really have more than half a plan. Maybe I could force my way past the pair of security guards or trick some information out of them. Maybe they had watched me walk into the restroom with Brent and his brainwash device. Maybe I could use that to my advantage, but I definitely couldn't stay up in the air vents any longer and I wasn't sure if I was ready to completely blow my cover.